


Take It Slow

by Jashiku



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Oral, Sex, Touching, slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashiku/pseuds/Jashiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It gets heated between the revolutionary and the cynic and things seem to be going fast... until they slow down. Grantaire takes his time with this rare opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It Slow

There was really no telling how long they had wanted to do this. They had never discussed it, in fact, they were anything but intimate when it came to each other, but somewhere between stripping each other down in the hallway to getting tangled in each other's limbs on Enjolras's bed, they must have realized, maybe not at the same time, but all the same, how much they'd wanted to do this, how often they'd craved each other's touch. Perhaps it was the attraction of opposites, sparked by clashing of interests, how each one dared to cross the line as though to purposely hurt each other.

But perhaps it wasn't to hurt each other, or rather, not intentionally. It just came off that way. Both men were passionate in their own crafts, and only paid attention to passion, so passion was how they communicated, their activity on the bed being a prime example, but when it wasn't that, it was the debates. It was the contradicting each other's views and words and speeches and ridiculing each other regardless of everyone's witnessing. It was definitely something that caught both their attentions, and now that no one was around, now that they'd crossed some invisible line, they were here.

Grantaire had definitely fantasized about this more than once, though nothing he'd imagined was like what was happening now. The activity blinded him with passion and longing-- he was dazed even as he participated. He could hardly believe how eager Enjorlas was being, and with him no less. He had been sure the blonde man hated him while he loved him, and honestly he was almost content with the unrequited nature of that.

Almost. 

Their mouths crushed with wanton abandon, and lips were wet and glistening and swollen from the violence of it. It was a wonder there wasn't any blood. He had imagined that he would be the one beneath the angel's body, writhing in his touch, but it was the other way around. Though both were eager, Grantaire had the most experience, which meant he'd take the stirring wheel of their activity.

Enjolras didn't resist, no, he was welcoming every kiss, every caress, and his legs-- toned and slender-- were wrapped around his waist, impatient. This wasn't what Grantaire imagined, but he wasn't complaining.

There was nothing between them now but their boxers, which was a real shame, but he couldn't bear to end this moment, wanting to prolong it for as long as possible, because this couldn't be real. Surely not. This was Enjorlas beneath him, moaning and panting and pulling at his hair. And he was Grantaire, scraggly with his messy dark curls, and a rough jaw that he hadn't bothered to shave that morning. It didn't seem like the blonde minded the taste of the brandy on his tongue either because he couldn't get enough.

But as they continued on, their actions slowed, to Grantaire's dismay and fear. There was movement, but it had gone from bold to hesitant. Enjolras seemed to give Grantaire one last kiss, giving his bottom lip a playful bite that made him wince before he sank back into the bed, hands with fingers curled resting at the sides of his head. He was redder than Grantaire had ever seen him, as red as the sweater he always wore to protests in the fall. 

"Grantaire..." Enjorlas breathed, sending electricity down the drunkard's spine, but he was worried now. Why had he stopped? Grantaire forced himself to look into the other's blue eyes, which wasn't normally hard but there was a heaving bare chest beneath him and so much more. Then he saw a look in his eyes that sparked something in him, and it was a surprise he hadn't just done the deed right then and there. Enjorlas was clearly ready... or was he?

"I've... I've never done this before." the insurgent seemed to swallow, but even though he was clearly nervous, it sounded more like a suggestion than anything. "Could you go easy on me?"  
Grantaire found himself unable to breathe, feeling as though his lungs had collapsed and that his head was on fire.

"Y-yeah," he managed to let out. "Of course. Anything! But, uh--" he paused, unable to find the right words without feeling them strange, the red catching up to his pale cheeks. "How far do you want me to-- I mean we could just--" 

"Grantaire." Grantaire clamped his mouth shut. "Do anything you want, just go easy...." Red-faced and looking absolutely divine with his blonde hair splayed and messy around his head like a halo, there was desire and resolution in the blonde's blue eyes. It was a look strangely similar to the one he wore when he finished a speech. Grantaire shivered.

There was truly a god in heaven then, and if he were dreaming, then this was the best dream he could ever hope to have. The angel lay beneath him, still and waiting, his breathing heavy, and the cynic swore he could hear his heart beating through his chest, or perhaps that was his.

He bent forward, but not to touch the blonde's lips with his own like he craved. He pushed his lips against the other's ear, dragged them down to his jaw, then stopped on his neck. He nipped at the skin there, then gave it a good drag of his tongue before lovingly sucking on the skin there, making Enjorlas writhe and gasp, turning his head to the side so as to expose more of his skin to the brunette on top of him. He felt the other's fingers in his hair, but not to pull him away.

When Grantaire had left an adequate, angry red mark on the other's neck, he moved down to one of the other's shoulders, and kissed down to the young man's clavicles.  
"What're you doing...?" he heard Enjolras ask in a husky voice like he'd just woken up. 

"Doing what I want." Grantaire looked up at him from his chest, an excited smile on his lips though the concern was in his eyes, and he hoped Enjorlas wouldn't ask him to stop because as much as he ached to continue, he would at the drop of a hat. 

"Just this? You could just--"

"You told me to do anything, I'm doing it." cut in Grantaire, lifting himself up on his arms to hover over Enjolras with a challenging gaze in his eyes. "Do you want me to stop?" a playful grin stretched his lips, but within himself he waited for the other's answer with anticipation. He was good at that, looking as though he didn't worry.

"... No."

And that was all Grantaire needed, and the resigned look in Enjolras's eyes. "You're just taking so long."

"Slow and steady always wins the race, good sir," Grantaire put a firm hand on the blonde man's stomach then dragged it up to his chest, his fingers feeling each bump of muscle on the other's abdomen and his pectorals. He felt Enjorlas shudder even as the other replied, "This isn't a race, good man." 

Grantaire chuckled, almost giddy with the response, then used his thumb to play with one of the other's nipple. Enjolras froze, then gasped, uncertain what to do with the sensation. His hands went up to grab onto the headboard, as though he'd fall if he didn't hold on to something. "It's a race to see how far I can go before you start begging me to take you." he found himself saying, feeling bolder now, realizing his power over the blond revolutionary under him, the drunk cynic.

Enjorlas threw him a glare, but made no complaint. His hands lowered from the headboard, and he breathed in deep, the breaths shuddering as he attempted to remain composed. "Or how long it'll take before you can't handle yourself." he retorted.

Grantaire threw him a look that must have been quite determined because he saw Enjorlas's expression sink into something, not disappointment, or anything negative. Something like anticipation and longing. 

"I'm honestly quite close to that point-- but if I'm going to savor every inch of you, I'm going to have to hold myself back." His words made Enjolras's face even redder if that were possible, and he seemed to let out a shuddering breath, his chest sinking in response. Grantaire couldn't help but move forward to take his lips into his own, and Enjorlas felt the same, pushing his tongue into Grantaire's ready mouth.

While Grantaire surely tasted like Brandy and probably every bit of liquid he'd consumed that week, Enjolras tasted like coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar. He tasted like who he was; determined and powerful, but with a gentle aftertaste. Briefly he wondered if their mouths like this made an Irish coffee, but he could only taste Enjolras's flavour, and Enjolras could surely only taste his.

Grantaire's movements were hastier then. 

Their hands joined and fingers tangled with one another as Grantaire moved down to kiss the center of Enjorlas's front, making a slow trail from his sternum to his navel, each contact of lips on skin an intimate process, as though he were trying to melt Enjolras's skin with his heat, like a delicate piece of fine chocolate. Enjolras's skin wasn't salty-- it was sweet, like honey, and perhaps that was the drunkard's overly-active imagination, but that was what he tasted. There was not a scratch on the angel's skin, considering how often he'd gotten into physical disputes. And he was smooth, further reinforcing Grantaire's theory that this young revolutionary beneath him was a marble statue. But he was a warm-- well, at this point hot-- living and breathing marble statue. Grantaire couldn't help but feel undeserving of him even as he continued to kiss his front.

Before the guilt of possibly dirtying up this statue could sink in, he felt those warm fingers stroke his hair and heard an exhale of breath that reminded the drunkard greatly of a purring cat. He used both hands to feel up Enjolras's front this time, as though the man held secrets beneath his skin that could only be found by touch, and his thumbs grazed his erect nipples once more. Noting Enjolras's jumpy reactions to that area, Grantaire slid forward until his mouth was at level with one of the pink nubs, and eagerly he enveloped one with the heat of his mouth, wrapped it with his lips, and sucked. Enjolras almost convulsed beneath him, and Grantaire could feel those fingers tug at his hair.

"Oh-- Grant--!" Enjolras moaned, "Th-that's-- oh, fuck!" Grantaire swirled his tongue around the little bump before nipping at it carefully with his teeth, which elicited from Enjolras an audible gasp. To be sure that the other nipple wasn't being ignored, he used a hand to give it the same treatment minus the warmth and wetness of a mouth. He could have sworn that would be enough for Enjolras, but he didn't want the young revolutionary to finish so soon.

So when Enjolras made enough breathless noises (which honestly, were never enough), Grantaire released the other's abused nubs, now red and throbbing, and crawled backwards until his face was looking down at the other's boxer-clad hips. Enjolras was wearing red and black plaid boxers, which suited him perfectly and made Grantaire wonder if he owned fifty pairs of the same patterned underwear. It really wouldn't have been a surprise.

He glanced up at the blond, and marveled at Enjolras's messy hair, partly opened mouth, and eyelids ready to close. The blues of his eyes were glossy and seemed to glow in the dim yellow light of his bedroom. Beautiful as that was, Grantaire was especially happy with the red marks he'd left all over his body, like signatures to a work of art. 

The brunette licked his lips and swallowed back his impatience. He sat back on his knees when Enjolras reached out for him. Grantaire took hold of his hands and kissed them. Each finger was given the attention of his tongue, and two of the other's fingers were slipped into his mouth and given a good suck. Enjolras still tasted like honey.

"Do you really have to... savor all of me?" Enjolras managed to ask, still fighting to keep his composure. He said the word 'savor' like it was something taboo. Grantaire had to chuckle. He kissed the back of one of Enjolras's hands, placed them back down, then leaned down as though he would bury his face between Enjolras's legs. He pushed the other's legs apart, and last minute turned his head to kiss the young revolutionary's inner thigh. 

"I've... been wanting to do this for a long time." admitted Grantaire after pulling back from a kiss. He landed another one, causing silence to hover between them like a mist, giving the words time to sink into Enjolras's skin. "If you'd let me do this earlier, we would be done by now." A kiss on the calf, his hand dragging down the other leg. "But as it is, just in case this doesn't happen again," He's at Enjolras's foot now, and he lifts it to his face by the ankle, sitting back on his knees. He's examining it like it's the most beautiful thing he's touched, and kisses his toes, making Enjolras squirm slightly. "I'm not going to pass up the chance of making sure you're as human as the rest of us."

Enjolras glares down at him with as much ferocity as a desperate man can give. Grantaire's shoulders raise and he panics slightly because he knows it actually bothers Enjolras to be dehumanized, even slightly, but that isn't Grantaire's intention in the least. He smiles despite the other's glare, and continues to kiss his feet. "What I mean is I want to feel you. All of you." He takes some of Enjolras's toes into his mouth and sucks, and just like that, the blond man melts with an appreciative moan. "Grantaire..."

He spends time there, on the other's foot, making sure to feel the curve of the ball of his foot to his heel with his fingers and the rest with his mouth and tongue. It surprised Grantaire that Enjolras didn't seem to be ticklish in the least. Or if he was, he hadn't found that spot yet. Not that it would add to the moment, but he was a curious man given a very grand opportunity.

He gave Enjolras's other foot the same attention, but it was brief for he longed to move forward. There was still so much of the blond male he hadn't explored. Gently pushing the other's knee to the side, he asked, "Would you turn around for me?" For a tense moment, Enjolras gave him a questioning look, but red-faced and without a word did as he was asked.

No other back looked as perfect as Enjolras's. He couldn't decide where to start. Grantaire looked at Enjolras's body like a hawk ready to strike its prey and Enjolras must have felt it because he squirmed slightly. 

"Grantaire, I'm getting cold." complained Enjolras in a voice that held so much power, yet quivered with anticipation. Grantaire had to jump on the obvious response, smirking as he said it. "I'll warm you up, don't you worry." Enjolras had to snort, but that was the extent of it, because they both knew Grantaire wasn't joking.

The brunette crawled over him and bent to kiss the other's shoulder. His hands rested on the bed on both sides of the blonde man's body, and helped him move downwards as he kissed down the line of his spine. When he got to the base, his hands massaged Enjolras's back, going from his shoulder blades down to his sides. But he didn't stop there, and he felt Enjolras clench slightly as his hands hastily went over the blonde's buttcheeks.

"They're just as firm as I imagined." Grantaire had to comment, earning him a hissed, "Oh, stop!"

He'd decided he would go easy on the other male, though that decision looked to be harder and harder to keep the longer he went on. But he would try, at least. His hands kneaded and massaged the firm flesh before he pulled down the other's boxers by the hem, removing possibly the only thing keeping Grantaire in line. His breath hitched, and beneath him, stiff as he was, Enjolras lifted himself slightly so as to get the underwear off easier, which also caused his back to curve like a stretching cat. The cynic held his breath for a moment as though that would keep him composed.

"Alright, hold still." Grantaire said, rubbing the small of the other's back assuredly. Enjolras was silent, probably frozen with the anticipation that he had built up. Grantaire licked his lips, pushed the other's cheeks apart, and buried his face between them. Beneath him, Enjolras stiffened and gasped, but did his best to keep still. 

When he flicked his tongue into the other's puckering hole, the blond gripped hard at the headboard and gasped some more. As Grantaire continued to treat it with French kisses, he felt Enjolras gasping and panting, uncertain of how to react but perhaps enjoying it as well. Surely blonde was going crazy beneath him. This was almost as good as when he was playing with his nipples. But, again, not wanting Enjolras to finish too soon, he stopped before he could clench anymore, and sat back on his knees. 

Enjolras looked back at him over his shoulder with his red face and narrowed eyes, and Grantaire couldn't be sure if he was glaring at him or not. "What was....?"

Grantaire smiled at him, then made for him to roll over once more. "A little surprise for the insurgent." He was definitely feeling bolder now, and he made sure Enjolras kept his legs open so that he could make for his next target. "Continue sitting back, I'm not finished."

"I almost am." Enjolras had snapped back, hands holding the headboard behind him. "You're killing me, Grantaire."

"It's the other way around." came out huskier than he had intended, and in that moment he couldn't believe he was having this conversation with him. Then he bent down between the other's knees, and eyed the other's erect member like a rare jewel, hard and dripping against Enjolras's stomach. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he reached forward and took the other's hot member into his rough hand, and gently guided it into his open mouth. He heard Enjolras gasp, and decided then that he'd make this the best damn experience he would ever have. He'd give him something to preach about, even if no one was likely to hear about this.

Grantaire treated Enjorlas's cock like a popsicle ready to melt. He sheathed and unsheathed it, cushioned it with his tongue, and sucked at the tip, tasting the salty-sweetness that was the angel's pre-cum. This was enough for Grantaire. He didn't care if he wasn't given a turn, so long as he was able to release the man he loved from his current tension.

"G-Grantaire, I'm.... ah... I'm g-getting so-- close--!" Ah, such fine words the brunette didn't think he would ever hear. He continued his activity, his head bobbing up and down between Enjolras's thighs. He put his fingers just behind the other's balls, just before his pink pucker of an entrance, and pushed there repeatedly, making Enjolras positively arch his back and curl his toes. "Oh my G-- Fuck!"

And just like that, Enjolras had released with a cry most beautiful than any sound Grantaire had heard. He felt one of Enjolras's hands grip at his dark curls again, felt that member pump into his mouth everything he was worth, and Grantaire kept on sucking like his life depended on it. Briefly in that moment he wondered if perhaps Jehan could write a poem that perfectly described Enjolras's orgasm.

As though he'd been thrown off the earth, the blonde let himself drop down into the sheets and breathed as hard as a marathon runner. Grantaire cleaned him below with his mouth before popping back up and laying himself next to the spent blond. He had licked his lips and was smiling gleefully. Enjolras took a moment before he could look at him.

"You son of a bitch." was the first thing he said after he landed from his high. "Why didn't you just do that earlier?" Without much force, he hit Grantaire in the chest. The brunette winced then laughed. 

"Wasn't that worth the wait, though?" he asked almost too innocently. Enjolras threw him a sleepy glare, then pulled him by the jaw for a very eager, mouthy, wet kiss before practically collapsing into Grantaire's chest. "I hate you."

The brunette settled himself so that he had Enjolras wrapped in his arms and kissed his hair. "I love you, too."

When it seemed like they'd doze off without any reciprocation, Grantaire almost jumped when he felt pressure against his groin. Looking down, he saw that Enjolras was touching him, and kneading him through his boxers. The brunette's breath hitched. Could this night get any better?

"I'm no good at... what you did." Enjolras admitted almost inaudibly, eyelashes covering his blue eyes as he continued to massage Grantaire thoughtfully. "But I can do this." He dove a warm hand into the other's boxers and gripped Grantaire's erection. The brunette froze, but made no move to stop him.

Enjolras touch was hesitant at first, but as he continued to stroke the other, his movements got bolder and hastier. Grantaire wondered how it was possible that Enjolras had the softest touch while doing something with so much vigour. His breath got caught in his throat, his heart raced in his chest, and he felt his temperature rise higher than he thought possible. He put a hand to Enjolras's shoulder and threw his head back with eyes rolled. "Oh, God." came out as a sigh, and he felt himself being lifted higher and higher until the pressure built and he had to tighten his hold on Enjolras's shoulder as though he'd fly away if he didn't.

He'd be lying if he didn't admit that that wasn't the best handjob he'd ever gotten. Sure, it was clumsy, but it was Enjolras who gave it, and that thought alone was usually enough for Grantaire on his lonely nights. He'd been about to clean himself off of Enjolras's hands when the blond beat him to it and experimentally ran his tongue over his own fingers, cleaning himself off the opaque liquid. Grantaire swallowed once more.

When Enjolras looked at him, he was smiling proudly, with that touch of shyness. Then he buried his face into Grantaire's chest and sighed. They both seemed to sink into each other's warmth, both catching their breaths until all was silent. In all the years they'd known each other, neither had seen this coming, especially not Grantaire.  
But as it had indeed happened, both said not a word as sleep slowly took them. In the quiet of the room it was almost visible how they both hoped for a second round, and soon. 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that lesmiskink where Grantaire is too busy admiring all of Enjolras to pleasure him and Enjolras gets frustrated.


End file.
